Plaster Saint
by jaistashu
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a newly turned vampire who worries for his son's (Peter Kirkland) safety. His worries justify turning his son into a vampire just like him…right?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers**

**Heyy, this is to prove I'm not dead and this is a birthday gift to Rishi. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it. **

**Summary:** Arthur Kirkland is a newly turned vampire who worries for his son's (Peter Kirkland) safety. His worries justify turning his son into a vampire just like him…_right?_

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><p>Plaster Saint<p>

_Noun. _A person who makes a show of being without moral faults or human weakness, especially in a hypocritical way.

Chapter 1

It was the eve of his son's sixth birthday and even in the moments prior, the vampire had doubts that poked at the back of his mind. He himself was a new vampire and it had been a most awful fate. He would always regret slipping up on that hunt a year or so ago, but ultimately, it had allowed him eternal youth. Even though that was a prize in itself, Arthur Kirkland was restricted to nights. He didn't mind the darkness as sunlight had always bothered him, but once changed, taking care of his young son had become increasingly difficult and nerve-wracking. There was always the fear that Peter would run off, that strangers would infiltrate their home, that Arthur would be killed in his sleep, or that Peter wouldn't be able to take the loneliness of an empty house.

During the days, Arthur had been woken many times by his son. Usually, it was from his cries. Arthur's eyes would open to see the black and lack of light in his coffin before opening it and peering out to see his little boy leaning over with his hands rubbing his eyes raw. Every time Arthur saw the display, his heart ached and he lifted the child into his coffin. Peter would cling to him as Arthur whispered reassurances that everything was just fine. More often than not, Peter would cry himself to sleep. The poor dear tried his hardest to stay up as long as he could so he could see and play with his father. It was a wonder that they managed to stay with the routine for so long.

Arthur couldn't bear the heartache that Peter's loneliness caused him, so he figured that the only solution would be to turn the child. There were laws against it, but Arthur told himself that the whole ordeal was just morally grey. It was the right thing to do! Surely… Peter would no longer be alone. They could spend their nights together and sleep during the day. It would change everything and for the better. Arthur was sure of it.

"Peter," Arthur spoke, effectively finishing the story that he was reading to his son. The young boy looked up to his father expectantly. After a brief pause, Arthur closed the book and set it aside. How was he going to break the news to him? He began by giving Peter a close lipped smile. It was soft enough, but it most certainly had worry behind it.

He remembered the day in which he was turned. It was absolute agony and he could feel his body deteriorating and his nerves ripping at his limbs. By the time his human life ultimately ended, it was maybe an hour or so later. It felt like he had been tortured for days, but in reality all he felt was his body dying to make way for the superiority of a vampire's anatomy. Everywhere he looked he could see vast amounts of colors and even in the dead silence of the night, inanimate objects seemed to dance and spring to life as the flora and fauna sent mother nature's music into the crisp night air. The world was absolutely beautiful through a vampire's eyes…but only the night.

"Yes, Dad?" Peter asked. Even though his father had been silent for a few seconds, it felt like so much longer.

Arthur woke from his memory and his smile widened a bit before relaxing in an attempt to show Peter that nothing was wrong. "Peter, are you lonely? During the day when you're all by yourself and I can't come out, are you so lonely you can't stand it?"

Peter nodded empathically and even gripped onto Arthur's waistcoat. "Yeah… I—I'm still allowed in the coffin, right?"

Arthur would have laughed softly at the notion of kicking Peter out of the coffin, but it felt far too serious to find amusement in it. "No, Peter, of course not." He wrapped an arm around the boy and held him close. "No, that wasn't what I was thinking at all." Peter visibly relaxed at that, resting against his father's chest. "I was thinking…that it's your birthday in a few hours."

Peter leaned up and nodded yet again. "Yeah!" He smiled happily. Six was a _very_ mature age. Peter had been waiting for his gift for _DAYS_. Ever since his father clued him in that it would change his life, Peter had tried guessing hundreds of things—many things more than once. "Can I have my present?"

"Well…" Arthur glanced away, trying to think of the best way to word what he wanted to say. "Do you like the sunrise, Peter? How the skies are painted with…red, orange, and pink?" He tried his best to remember what the sunrise looked like. "Do you like the night and staying up with me?"

Again, Peter nodded, but this time it was hesitant. He was curious as to what exactly Arthur meant by asking all these questions. "Yeah… Dad, what is it?"

"I know that you can't always stay up the _entire_ night. You need your sleep, but that means we don't have much time we can spend with each other." Arthur paused before giving Peter's back a reassuring rub. "Wouldn't you like it if we could spend all our time together? You could always stay up the whole night with me and we can sleep during the day. Would you like that, Peter?"

Arthur watched as his son's eyes grew and shined with want. It seemed that all sorts of scenarios and plans flashed through Peter's mind and a smile grew on his little face. "Yeah!" He shouted and bounced in his father's lap.

Alright, he had his son's consent. That was highly important. …His son was only six… He couldn't possibly understand exactly how taxing a vampire's restrictions were. Even if Arthur did explain that Peter could never see the sun again, that his life would be dictated by his thirst, and that there would always be people that wanted to _kill_ him, he would likely not be able to deter him. As long as the promise of spending more time together hung in the air, Peter would seize it.

"Dad?" Peter's exuberant expression from before was replaced with concern.

Arthur put more effort into hiding away his doubts and gave Peter a brilliant smile. At the sight of that, Peter's concern lessened if only slightly. "My apologies, Peter. I was distracted. We'll stay awake and watch the sunrise together. I'll give you your gift when I wake."

A grin splayed across Peter's face. Arthur cemented his decision and then he returned to the book they were reading. Peter chose another story to listen to. Before they knew it—or rather after a series of serious attempts at keeping Peter awake—the Sun began to rise. Peter sat in front of the large window that faced east. Arthur had pulled the thick, dark curtain back so Peter could have full view of the orange streaked sky while Arthur stayed by his side from behind something like a protective fabric shield.

Arthur faced away from the window and didn't dare glance at the brightening sky. Peter asked why his father wouldn't watch with him.

"It's too bright for me," he said before looking down at Peter with a gentle smile. "Would you describe it to me?"

Peter nodded and though his eyelids were heavy, he gazed at the rising sun and did his absolute best to stay awake. "There's— Purple out over the trees. And… And there's some orange and really, really dark blue over the town." Peter knew where the town was. It was about a mile or two away, but Peter at least knew the direction. "It's coming up real slow." He commented.

Arthur closed his eyes and listened to his son describing the sunrise. He felt his skin heat up. Damn that sun. Damn the daylight. He hoped that Peter wouldn't miss it terribly. "It's lovely, isn't it?" His words betrayed his real opinion, but being with Peter dampened how detestable the sun was.

Peter nodded and then he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"About time for bed?" Arthur asked, opening one eye to view his son's exhausted stretch.

The boy shook his head and squinted at the sunrise. When his eyes fell closed and his posture slackened, Arthur soundlessly closed the curtain and scooped Peter up in his arms. The vampire then carried his son up to his bed and tucked him in. Peter protested softly and gripped at Arthur's clothes.

"Stay," he demanded in his gentle tone of voice.

On any other occasion in the past, Arthur would assure Peter that he would see him again that evening, but at this point in time, Arthur sat down beside the bed and held Peter's hand. He had every intention of staying by Peter's side until the child let his fatigue overtake him. Arthur curled away from the streaks of sunlight that snuck between the gaps in the bedroom's curtains. It wasn't long before Peter was fast asleep, allowing the vampire to sneak out of the room and into his coffin.

Arthur's sleep was interrupted once or twice throughout the day. Peter hadn't slept for very long and once his energy was renewed, he was bursting with enthusiasm and could hardly wait to receive his gift. On the third time Peter visited his father, Arthur finally climbed out of his coffin. It seems that the sun had just set and there were still a handful of pink streaks in the sky. Well. He could not exactly deny Peter by saying it was still day. The boy had waited long enough.

"Dad, I'm ready!" The child grinned and tugged on his father's hand. "I'm ready for my birthday present!"

Arthur gazed down at his son's bright, sunny face. He practically radiated excitement and adoration. Arthur hoped that the adoration would stay after the hard night that would lie ahead of them. "Very well, poppet." He held Peter's hand, gently rubbing his thumb against it. He then guided Peter to the comfortable sofa. There would be no easy way to do this and it would probably sully Peter's memory of the sofa.

Arthur tried not to think on it. Once he seated Peter, he took his time fetching a clean dish cloth from the kitchen. He gazed at it with dull eyes as he headed back to the sofa and to his son. Upon seeing Peter grin and bounce in his seat, the dull look dissipated though the smile he conjured did not quite reach his eyes. Wordlessly, he sat down beside Peter and gripped the cloth he held.

"Peter," Arthur spoke clearly and softly, "before I give you your gift, you need to know what it is."

His son shook his head. "I want it to be a surprise!" He spoke with a determined tone a few octaves stronger than the vampire's. "I want— I want to be surprised when I open it!"

Arthur mirrored Peter's head shake. "It's not the sort of gift that has pretty paper and ribbons. I need you to listen to me and to understand what I'm going to tell you." His serious voice wiped the smile from Peter's face and the boy's exuberance left him. Arthur waited a moment or so before continuing, "…I know that you're lonely here often. I know that it would make you happy if our schedules were on the same track… And with my gift, you'll be able to share my coffin each day. We can stay up together and play. We can share meals. We can do whatever you like…save for being in sunlight."

Peter watched as his father explained the conditions to his birthday gift. "But why?" He asked. He loved all those wonderful things Arthur spoke of—he really did! He was just curious.

This would be one of the hard parts. "…I…was planning on making you like me." It took all of Arthur's strength to keep his eyes focused on his son. "I cannot stand in sunlight…or I will burn. In order to survive…I need to drink blood." At the frightened look on Peter's face, Arthur quickly backtracked to try to lighten the conditions. "Ah— But— It's—" There was really no way to try to make a vampire's life seem favorable. "I get it from the containers I keep in the kitchen." It wasn't entirely a lie…but it helped to calm Peter a bit. "… The world that I see is different from yours, Peter." As if to back up his point, he looked out the window at the abundant greenery. His tone embodied nothing but gentle tones and promised lovely things. "It's beautiful. There are more colors than I can describe. So many greens and blues… You can run with the deer if you so choose it. You can sleep surrounded by rabbits." Arthur looked back to his son with warmth nestled deep in his eyes. "We could do it together. Would you like that, bun?"

Peter watched Arthur and—very diligently—listened. He didn't have anything to say for a few moments, but the concerned look on his young face did not give Arthur any relief. "You…" His voice came out in a whisper, "…You want— you want to…change me, Dad? I thought…," Tears began to bubble forth, "I thought you liked me…like I am. You don't like me anymore?"

At that, the warm expression completely fell from Arthur's face. He ceased his breathing and shook his head just barely. "No— Pete—"

Arthur's stumbling through his words only caused Peter's shoulders to shake and the tears start to drip. The boy sniffed as his reality hit him. His dad did not like him as he was…

Immediately, the vampire drew his most precious child to his chest. His arms protectively cradled the boy and Arthur bowed his head. He could not bear to see the tears. "No, Peter, no, I love you with all my heart! I promise y—" He leaned back and rested his hands on Peter's shoulders, staring into his eyes. "I _promise_ you, Peter. I feel nothing but love towards you. You're very special and you're such a gracious blessing. I'm so lucky to have the opportunity to raise you…" He _prayed_ that his words reached his son's ears. "You misunderstand… Yes, this will be a change…but it will be a change that will let us spend more time with each other—a change that will bring us closer together. Wouldn't you like that, Peter?" He began to soothingly rub the boy's back.

Peter rubbed his eyes and sniffled, leaning into the comforting touch. He bit his bottom lip and nodded. It started off as a non-committal nod, but gradually grew more determined. The palms of his hands rubbed at his eyes until the boy's cheeks were red. Peter removed his hands and balled them up into fists. "Mhm. Y—Yes." He was absolutely sure.

A relieved smile pulled Arthur's lips taut. They were stepping in the right direction. "That makes me happy to hear." He moved his hand to grip the kitchen cloth he had abandoned.

Upon hearing that he had pleased his father, Peter felt even _more_ determined to accept his gift and be with his father all the more! He always loved making Arthur happy. "What's the cloth for, Dad?"

A reasonable question deserved a reasonable answer. "For biting." Arthur answered simply. He paused as he dreaded explaining the very next part. "… Even though we both want this change…it's going to be hard. I remember when I went through this…that it did hurt. It was scary. I was all alone when it happened." He carefully watched Peter's expression just in case this information put him off in any way whatsoever.

Peter remembered. He remembered when his father did not return to the home after a hunt. He had not returned for a few days. Peter had to go around town asking people about his father. The townspeople were kind enough. They fed him. They housed him. They told him that his father would return.

And return he did.

Peter had gazed upon his father. He wore dark clothes. He only walked in the night. His expressions were more fluid—more graceful—as were _all_ of his other actions. At first Peter was wary. He did not seem like the person he knew. After a week of living with his newly turned father, Peter grew comfortable with him. Arthur was still the dad he loved. He was just different.

And now Peter would be like him.

"But you won't be." Arthur assured him. "It will be scary and it will hurt, but you won't be alone. I'll stay right here with you while it happens." All he could do was present the information to his son and hope that Peter would still agree to go through with it. He gulped lightly, keeping his eyes trained on Peter. "Do you trust me?"

Peter kept his gaze on his father and he looked between each of his eyes. There was silence as Peter decided that he did indeed trust his dad. Lightly, he nodded his head, "Yeah— Yeah, I trust you, Dad." He gripped onto Arthur's shirt. He did not want to do the part that hurt, but… But it would not hurt forever, right? And— And his dad was right here to keep him safe and to comfort him. He said it would be scary. Well, Peter could be brave. If it would make his father happy, Peter would be the bravest six year old ever!

Arthur still was not entirely sure that Peter grasped the severity of what would happen, but the boy would understand soon enough. "Whatever happens, you need to do exactly as I say. Once I've started, I can't stop it."

Peter nodded with the intent to do the best he could to listen to Arthur.

"Tilt your head." Arthur commanded in a firm, but gentle tone. He watched as Peter did exactly as he said. Peter's neck looked soft and the jugular beneath was thrumming with life.

Being a vampire had always made Arthur notice exactly how _alive_ Peter was. He was constantly moving, constantly making noise, and constantly breathing. Watching Peter gave Arthur the same feeling he felt when he gazed through a telescope at the various galaxies beyond Earth's atmosphere. There was always so much wonder and mystery and despite viewing all the little beauties in nature, Arthur would readily admit that the most fantastic treasure he had ever witnessed was his son.

Arthur held the clean cloth to Peter's lips, giving him the choice to bite into it or not. Wordlessly, Peter opened his mouth and bit into the cloth, keeping it in his mouth. He still was not sure why he would need the kitchen cloth. He could keep quiet no matter how badly it hurt.

Arthur tilted his head to the side and leaned forward, brushing his fangs against Peter's neck. He felt his son tense up upon feeling the sharp canines. He began to soothingly rub Peter's back to see if he could calm him before sinking his fangs into the child's neck.

The vampire could feel his son's whimper reverberate through his small body. He could feel Peter's nails dig into his chest and the boy gasped—or he tried. The gag made it difficult to intake air through his mouth. Arthur kept the boy in a vice grip as he drew liquid life from him. Even though Arthur kept his eyes squeezed shut, he knew Peter trembled in fear and—bless his heart—tried not to struggle. Even through this traumatizing experience of having one's father suck his blood, Peter still tried to behave for him.

…Not traumatizing— Necessary— Right?

Arthur awoke from his thoughts when he felt Peter smack—or rather as hard as a little boy could smack—his chest incessantly as he cried, "Dad! Dad—!" The voice was so soft and muffled with the dishcloth. The smacks had lost their energy. Peter was afraid. Even though he trusted his father implicitly, he could feel himself close to death and it terrified him.

It was almost time.

Once the vampire had taken the majority of his son's blood, he retracted his fangs from the child's neck and pulled back. Peter was pale. Arthur gently lifted the cloth out of Peter's mouth and Peter heaved breaths.

"I—is it done?" Oh, Peter. "Did you do it, Dad?" Peter, no. "Is—is it done?" Those eyes were filled with so much hope. He thought he had finished the task his father had set for him. "Am I like you now?"

Quietly, Arthur shook his head and the hope fell from Peter's eyes. "No, love. Not yet." The vampire brought his wrist to his lips.

Peter watched him, still heaving heavy breaths. "Dad…" He spoke softly, "Dad, I'm sleepy…"

"I'll tuck you in soon enough. We can read a story together." Arthur sunk his fangs into his wrist and tore it, allowing the mixed blood to bead forth from its confines. "Won't that be nice?" He smiled, his lips and teeth stained with blood.

The boy's eyes widened when he saw the bloody smile. He loved his father's smiles, but when paired with blood…the result was frightening. When Peter did not respond, Arthur held his bloodied wrist to Peter's mouth. Peter could only stare at the wrist in fear.

As the seconds ticked by, the vampire grew more anxious. "Peter, you must drink."

"I don't want to—" He whispered, fatigue pulling at him.

Arthur raised his voice with urgency and moved his wrist closer. "You _must_. Peter, there's no turning back. You _**have**_ to drink." The commanding tone was a necessary evil. If Arthur did not manage to get Peter to drink from him, then the child would surely die.

At Peter's whimper, Arthur decided that there had been enough stalling. As much as he hated to scare his son, he would have hated so much more to see him dead. The vampire pressed his wrist to Peter's mouth and forced him to drink.

There was a brief, muffled whine from Peter and he rested his small hands against his father's arm. He had fully intended to push the arm away, but in the moments he tasted the mixed blood, Peter was unsure. The first drops were repulsing. The next few drops were unwelcome. The first gulp, however, was most accepted. Peter's eyes slipped closed and he moved to wrap his arms around his father's.

When Peter _finally_ succumbed and freely drank from his wrist, Arthur let out a relieved breath. Peter would be fine. The ritual had begun and was continuing on. The worst was yet to come.

"Peter," Arthur spoke in a tone free of the urgency he had before. Peter still clung to his father's arm, drinking as much as he could. He could not help himself. The taste was so delicious and its presence was so welcome. "Peter," Arthur's tone became stern and he tried to pull his arm away. Peter kept a firm grip on Arthur's arm. The vampire started to feel weak as his son's strength grew. "_Peter,_ you have to let go now! You've had enough!"

At the shout, Peter instinctively released his hold and Arthur managed to pull his arm away. The boy stared at his father with a blank expression. He sat with his back straight. His eyes were wide, but not filled with fear. He would look perfectly innocent if not for the blood that had dripped from his mouth and soaked the entire front of his shirt.

There was silence as their gazes were locked.

Suddenly, Peter's eyelids fluttered and he looked down. His arms were still held up from clutching Arthur's arm. His fingers and frame twitched and his wide eyes slowly began to squeeze closed. He took in shaky breaths before letting out a scream and clutching his sides.

Arthur made a determined attempt to sit up. "Peter," He spoke quickly, "this part is the hardest."

Peter felt a pang of—of _something_—rip through his body and he let out another scream, falling back off of his father's lap to the floor. The boy did not grunt or make any indication that he knew he fell to the floor. The waves of whatever was happening to him jolted his body, causing him to keep his eyes opened as wide as possible.

Immediately, Arthur knelt by Peter's side and rested a hand on the side of his son's face. "It's going to hurt." He stated as clearly as possible between Peter's breaths—or rather, shrieks. "Everything will be okay. It will be okay soon enough."

_No, it isn't okay!_

Arthur continued to explain the process. "Your body is dying. That is why it hurts." If Peter had heard what he said, Arthur could not tell. "It lasts for just a little while—then it'll be over. You'll be like me. It'll be okay, Peter. Everything is fine." He spoke in as calm a voice as he could muster.

Peter gazed up as his father and briefly registered that he was not doing a thing to stop it. Another flare of pain decomposed parts of his insides and he let out another breath in a scream. His father— He knew— He knew that it would hurt— Peter screamed again and twisted away from Arthur.

This time Arthur remained where he was. Peter climbed onto his hands and knees, the pain still wracking his body every other second or so. He looked up to his father with a face Arthur never thought Peter would make. His expression was scrunched up in pain and the sight of the blood on Arthur's lips and chin still produced an abundance of fear in Peter.

The boy stood—or as best as he could without wobbling—and backed away from the vampire.

He loved his father.

His father would care for him and read him stories. He would tuck him in. He would sing him songs. He would feed him. This could not possibly be his father. The creature with blood on his lips. The creature that hurt him. He did say it would hurt. _The creature never said he would die!_

"Peter," Arthur moved forward and eased into a standing position, thus causing the boy to move farther back. "Peter, it's okay—" Of course that was hard to say when Peter still whimpered and whined in pain constantly.

After another moment of gazing at the monster, Peter turned and ran as fast as he could to the door, doing his best to avoid Arthur on the way. Peter made it out the door just a few feet before Arthur hurried after him and grabbed his arm, eliciting a shriek from the boy. Peter turned his head back to stare up at Arthur in fear. Tears had bubbled over and dripped down the boy's cheeks. Some tear drops were translucent and others were red.

Arthur froze.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

In the vampire's state of shock, Peter broke away from him and ran off into the forest that surrounded their mansion. Arthur stared at the thick line of trees as the whines and whimpers of his son gradually disappeared.

Peter was not supposed to run away.

He was supposed to bear with the transformation and Arthur was supposed to hold him and reassure him that all would be just fine—that after Peter's human life _ended_, they would go for a walk. Arthur would watch as Peter grew amazed by all the gorgeous sights around him.

He had run away and Arthur needed to retrieve him.

Peter continued his running until the ground disappeared clean out from under him. He tumbled for a few feet and slipped down a slope into the creek. Still, he panted and whined in pain. The cold water that lapped at his body offered little comfort, but comfort nonetheless. Peter panted deeply and decided to remain where he was. Well— The pain would not allow him to move from his position. As Arthur searched for him, Peter's human life flickered down to a dull flame until it finally disappeared.

The boy was silent. The first thing he noticed was the absence of pain and then he noticed the water that ran against his body. He relaxed in it. He could feel each drop as the group thrummed against his back. He could feel drops run and then slide down over his shoulder and neck. Slowly, he sat up and dared to open his eyes.

He watched as nature unfolded before him.

Peter never knew that the world could have so many colors—so many textures. He never knew purple hid in the trees and that orange and flecks of maroon could give water such glitter and shine. In one seamless motion, Peter stood and gazed down at the creek. He could see his legs and his feet, but he had lost his reflection. He would have briefly mourned it, but the sounds of the night began to take hold and distract him.

There was water rushing, crickets chirping, rabbits rustling around in the bushes, and laughing… Peter looked to the direction in which he heard the laughter and talking. He saw smoke float above the treetops and disperse into the night air.

It was the village.

Without question, Peter found himself drawn to it—drawn to the talking and the families. It was laughably easy to navigate through the forest to the village. Before that night, Peter always had to use the pathway to reach the village. The forest had always been so confusing. It could only be assumed that something was guiding Peter that night.

He ventured on until the vegetation parted to reveal the cobblestone ground. Peter soundlessly dragged his gaze over the village. The adults were hurrying children inside for dinner. Peter gingerly took a step towards the center of the village and gradually increased his pace. All his movements were so sure—so confident. Everything felt absolutely effortless.

That is, until an adult spotted him.

"Peter?" The woman asked, "Peter Kirkland, is that you?"

Peter lifted his head to see the lady standing in her home's doorway. She could not have been more than twenty feet away. A little girl peaked out from behind her mother's skirt and her face brightened up at the mention of the boy the family had taken in a year or so ago.

Slowly, Peter nodded and called back, "Yes, Ma'am." Save for his mouth and his head's movement, he remained motionless. He could not understand what it was, but upon seeing the two, Peter felt himself need something. He wanted to go to them—to be near them—to have the comfort he had when his father had not returned to him so long ago. He _needed_ it.

"What are you doing all the way down here?" The kind lady asked as she wiped the flour from her hands on her apron. Giggling, the little girl hurried out from behind her mother and ran towards Peter. "Does your father know you're out here, love? He didn't leave you alone again, did he?"

It was not until the little girl was a mere foot or so away from Peter that she stopped and her smile disappeared. She saw it. She saw the blood that soaked Peter's shirt and the river's water that clung to whatever part of his garments it could.

Peter kept his eyes locked on hers. What was she so scared about? Didn't she want to lead him inside? Perhaps to have dinner with her and her family? Oh, Peter wanted that very badly. He wanted—nay—_needed_ to be around a loving family _at that very moment._

The little girl reached out a hand and rested it against Peter's cheeks. "Are you okay?" Her voice wavered, "Did you get hurt?"

Her touch sent a jolt through Peter. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his nerves shrieked and screamed at him. The thrumming he had been unknowingly ignoring for minutes now had grown deafening.

"Peter?" She tilted her head, highly concerned for the boy. When Peter regretted to respond, she drew her hand away and turned to her mother, calling to her. "Mum, something's wrong with Peter!"

To this day, Peter did not want to admit he knew what had happened that night.

It had all passed by so fast. He heard screaming. He heard it from far away and he heard it right by him. He felt his vice grip hold her in place as he took what it was he needed so badly. The need was not for the loving atmosphere of a family at dinner as he had originally thought.

Rather… It was for the blood that stained his cheeks and trickled down his throat, sating his thirst. _Oh,_ it was _divine_. Peter had never tasted ambrosia, but he was pretty sure that what he was drinking came fairly close.

It was not until he felt a solid blow to his head that his right mind returned to him. He sat up from the cobblestone ground and watched silently as the scene finally registered. The nice lady cradled her daughter to her chest, assuring her that she would be okay.

She would be okay…right?

Peter's eyes widened in horror. She would be okay! She would! He couldn't have done anything wrong, could he? He could not possibly have harmed her, did he? It was at that moment that he took notice of the family's father running out of the house with a blunt instrument. Peter did not take the time to figure out what it was. Instead, he leaped up and ran as fast as his legs could carry him back into the forest.

The village disappeared in mere moments and Peter had to halt to look back. He was already so far away and he had not even broken a sweat. He would have been marveled by his sudden new gift for athletics, but the attack weighted on him. He felt his throat as the little girl's blood clung to the walls of his esophagus. It was life and he had stolen it from her.

Peter coughed and fell to his knees. It had to be wrong! It had to be wrong to feel so good after doing something so bad! He coughed harder and gripped the grass beneath him. Flecks of blood flew from Peter's mouth and peppered the viridian blades. He heaved breaths in and out as his eyes bubbled with fresh, red tears.

"Peter."

The boy lifted his head to view his father. He looked the vampire up and down and he looked back in the direction of the village. There were shouts and yells about a demon and a monster. Arthur took this moment to step towards Peter and soundlessly kneel beside him.

"Peter," He whispered, "did you…?"

Peter yanked his gaze from the village and set it on Arthur. The tears dripped down his cheeks and he inadvertently tore at the grass. "Daddy," He whimpered, "I didn't— I didn't mean to— She—!" He hiccupped between his words, "She just— And—!" Then came the gasping and the sobs.

Arthur could understand well enough. He gently wrapped his arms around his son and drew him to his chest. "I know, Peter." The vampire soothingly rubbed the child's back as Peter's violent sobs shook him. When Arthur felt the people from the village were getting too close for his comfort, he stood and held his son as he walked up to his mansion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers.**

**Hello and welcome to chapter two of Plaster Saint! As shocking as this is, this chapter is right on schedule. Judging from how things are progressing, I believe that this fanfiction will be a total of three chapters long. Enjoy!**

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><p>Plaster Saint<p>

Chapter 2

Peter still cried even as Arthur carried him inside and barred the doors and windows. He would have to deal with the village sooner or later and he thought of various lies he could tell. The fey were always easy to blame.

"Peter, darling," Arthur finally spoke again as he undressed his son. He had to make sure to clean the boy up and dress him in his night clothes if he wanted any lie of his to be believable. "How much did you drink?"

The boy sniffed and rubbed his eyes. When he pulled his hands away and saw the red smeared over them, he let out a shriek.

Quickly, Arthur held the boy's hands and tilted his chin up to meet his gaze. "Those are our tears." He stated in a calm voice, "Because we feed on blood, it becomes the liquid we excrete be it as sweat…" Arthur brushed his finger against the curve of Peter's cheek, "Or tears." Peter visibly calmed down, but he was still horribly shaken up by the night's events. "Now, come and get in the bath. We need to wash all that blood off you so the villagers won't see it."

Nodding, Peter climbed into the bath and sat down while the water slowly filled the clawfoot tub. After a moment or so, he mumbled, "Thanks, Dad."

Arthur shook his head and checked the water temperature. "No, Peter. You shouldn't thank me. I was wrong." He could finally admit that changing Peter was most certainly the _wrong_ thing to do, but it was too late now. "I should have never done that to you and I should have kept you from leaving the house."

"Dad," Peter spoke softly and rested a hand against Arthur's arm, "No— No, it's okay. You— You said to trust you and… And I ran away and…" His voice hitched as he remembered the details of the night's previous event.

The older vampire paused and shut off the faucet once the tub was filled. "You need to understand." He met Peter's gaze. "We're vampires. We feed off the blood of the living. It's why we're so fast, why we don't age, and why we can see everything—do almost anything. It's why we can no longer go out in sunlight or eat human food."

"It's why we're dead?" Peter asked with eyes full of innocence.

Arthur paused and then gulped lightly, nodding. "Yes, Peter. It's why we're dead. I'm so sorry. You're too young to be turned. I thought…" He reached for the soap and a cloth as he spoke, "I thought that maybe it would be best if you were the same as me. I thought it would be easier to take care of you and to protect you." Arthur stopped his movement when he felt Peter grip his arm. When Peter did not say anything, Arthur settled down and looked to Peter expectantly. "Yes, love?"

"…I don't want to— …To kill people… I don't want to drink their blood…" The boy admitted. The idea of feeding off other peoples' lives repulsed him even if it was how he and his father had to live. He just…really did not want to.

Arthur eyed his son. On one hand, he could tell Peter _too bad_. He had to kill people anyway—no matter how much he disliked it. …But on the other hand, he turned his son without fully telling him what was going on and he had already most likely killed someone. With a brief sigh, Arthur nodded. He remembered turning. He remembered the horror of realizing he would have to kill the very people he protected in order to survive. Finally, he spoke, "Very well. You don't have to kill anyone or anything. You can get your blood from the kitchen cabinets. I'll show you where the jars are."

At this, Peter visibly relaxed. His dad understood. He still didn't really like the idea of drinking blood, but if he didn't have to kill anyone…then that was okay. His eyes widened. "But— But I don't want you to kill anyone either—"

The older vampire's mild frown remained on his face. That would make things _far_ more difficult than what he had bargained for. He opened his mouth to respond, but Peter interrupted him.

"Promise."

"I— What?"

"Promise that you won't kill anyone." Peter leaned forward, staring at his dad and absolutely adamant about his demand. "I— I don't want you to kill anyone." When his father did not respond, Peter went into more detail, "I know… I know that you used to save people from scary things. You would make the scary things go away and— and people were nice to you because you were nice to them." He paused and gulped a bit. "_Dad_, if you hurt them, you're one of the scary things…" Even saying that hurt Peter. He didn't want to think of his father as one of the scary monsters that hid in the dark!

After a pause, Arthur realized that Peter was right. He never wanted to think about the conclusion. He never wanted to think about how he had become one of the creatures he used to hunt. His eyes slipped closed and he nodded. His head never felt so heavy in his life. "I promise to not kill anyone." He stated. He owed Peter at the very least that much.

A smile grew on Peter's face and remained there until Arthur spoke his next words.

"But you have to come with me." Arthur's eyes opened and he watched Peter with a serious expression. "I promise not to kill, but we both still need to feed. We can try to survive on animal blood," He knew that drinking animal blood was only _surviving_ and not living, "or we could take small amounts of blood from many people—we'll only drink as much as we need and we won't turn anyone. We'll be sure that they're unconscious so they don't have to witness it." All in all, it was incredibly humane—at least in Arthur's eyes. "Does that sound like a good alternative to killing?"

Peter thought about it before nodding softly. It would have to do. He still didn't like the idea of attacking people, but if they were going to live and if Arthur was going to keep them from being afraid, then it should be okay. "Thanks, Dad." He relaxed and allowed Arthur to proceed in washing the blood off him.

Arthur focused on scrubbing off the dried, red remnants and remained silent. He still felt that he should not be thanked—not remotely, but he quietly answered, "You're welcome, Peter."

Arthur spent that night carefully explaining a vampire's limitations and their strengths. He described how Peter should never drink blood from the long dead and how he should never drink too much in general lest he get sick.

Much to Arthur's confusion, the villagers never came. It was peculiar that the doors and the windows remained intact especially when Arthur knew that the family clearly saw it was Peter that attacked the little girl. Arthur wanted to focus on guiding Peter into his new life rather than the mystery as to why the villagers did not do anything.

Over the course of a week, the vampire allowed himself to let the worry about the villagers shrink into something small in the back of his mind. He had Peter feed from the jars in the kitchen for the past few days and fully intended to show him how to properly hunt that night.

Arthur had gently woken Peter and dressed him properly for their journey. By the time they made it to the door, the skies were still alight with the sun. Thankfully, the direct beams had receded.

"Tonight we're going to travel a few miles to a new town." Arthur gave Peter's small hand a squeeze. "We need to be quiet and careful." The vampire had already taken a few precautions and dressed them both in light fabric. It would be hard enough for humans to sense them as it was. With these clothes, it would be damn near impossible.

Peter looked up to his dad, frowning. "We're going to move?" He turned his head back to view the mansion's inside. "But I like it here… Why are we moving?"

"We're not moving," Arthur answered simply and guided Peter fully out of the house before closing and locking the door. "We're running out of supplies in the kitchen and we need to save those jars for emergencies. I'm going to show you how to hunt and—more importantly—how to control your thirst." It was imperative that Arthur teach Peter how to take only samples of blood rather than drain a body.

"Oh…" Peter was quiet for a few moments as Arthur pocketed the mansion's key and began to lead Peter to the forest. Truth be told, he did not want to learn how to hunt. He wanted to continue drinking from the jars. It made everything easier and the snacks were _right there in the kitchen_. There was no threat of death to anyone. "Um… Can we— can we just walk instead?" He smiled in an attempt to sway Arthur's plans. "I can learn how to do that stuff next week. We're going to live forever, right?"

This was _certainly_ a different point of view that Arthur had not seen on Peter. It was refreshing to see that his son was not dwelling on the loss of his human life, but putting off learning how to hunt was a very unwise move. "No, Peter. I'm going to teach you how to hunt tonight."

The young vampire frowned and stared down at the forest floor as the two soundlessly walked around vegetation and over sticks. "It'd only be next week." He mumbled. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his father, but he really was averse to hurting people.

Arthur sighed softly and stopped walking before squatting down beside Peter. He rested his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Peter, I realize that learning how to hunt is scary, but it is so important that you learn it. Even though it is possible for us to live forever, there are many things working against us."

"Like what?" Peter asked. If he thought about it for a moment or so, he would know, but mostly he had a hard time picturing anything being able to beat Arthur.

"Well…" Arthur stood up again, taking Peter's hand in his, and walking towards that town he was talking about. "More or less, one of these days I may not be here to guide you and you need to know how to fend for yourself."

At that, Peter moved to hug Arthur's arm. He didn't want to hear that either. "It won't happen," He was determined to deny what may be a perfectly sound course of nature, "Dad, you won't let it happen, will you?"

Arthur scooped Peter up in his arms and carried him. "Of course I won't."

The young vampire clung to his father's shirt and rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. The rest of the walk was spent in mostly silence. Peter would point out something pretty and Arthur would offer explanations, ultimately agreeing with Peter that—yes—that little ladybird beetle was indeed a miracle of nature.

Within an hour, they reached the town Arthur spoke of. It was far bigger than the estranged village back near the mansion and it even had those gas street lights. Peter commented that they looked like fey dotted around the town. Arthur agreed.

Everyone was still out and about—mostly adults rather than children. It was a bustling city to say the least. The sudden immigration of so many people from farms were to thank for that. It was crowded, yes, and everyone seemed exhausted. There were few that kept up their hopes that exclaimed over their paycheck and how others were able to get jobs.

Peter watched all of them curiously and took note that there were no children about. "Dad," He asked softly while he kept his gaze on the flock of people leaving factories, "where are all the kids?"

Truly, Arthur hated the thought of it, but he explained it regardless. "Well, they've all got jobs. They need to get up very early to be at work on time so they won't be fired. I imagine they're all at home sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Peter asked and looked to Arthur, "It's only seven!" He was honestly surprised. Children going to sleep by seven? That was preposterous. He himself had never been to bed before nine! "Shouldn't they be playing?"

Arthur gave Peter a slight shrug and a shake of his head. "That's how it should be, but almost everyone here is very poor. No one can afford to do anything but sleep, eat, and work. It may be difficult to understand, Peter, but your life is _very_ different from everyone else's." He made sure of that. He would have given anything to keep Peter from working in factories at such a young age and risking the chance of him perishing inside one of the many textile machines.

Now that Arthur looked back on his life of hunting and providing for Peter, he was thankful. Things ended up working out very well—especially when he took charge and forced fate in a favorable direction.

"What if I got a job like the other kids?" Peter asked, "Are jobs fun?"

As if by instinct, Arthur shook his head. "No," His tone was stern and without anger, "a job is no place for a child." He was aware of how dangerous it was, but he decided not to inform Peter exactly why. "We've got to hurry and teach you how to hunt." With the subject change, Arthur set Peter down on the ground and knelt down to his height. "We can hunt in the city just as well as we can in the forest. People are focused on themselves, so they don't take notice of us."

Peter nodded in understanding. "And we're not gonna kill them, right?" He winced a bit. He wanted this fact to be absolutely clear.

The elder vampire nodded in agreement. "Yes. We are not going to kill anyone." He would have gone into detail about why it may just be a better idea to kill them anyway, but it was important that Peter know his voice could be heard. He looked past Peter and at the crowd of people before standing and taking the boy's hand. "We're going to follow someone and then attack when they're alone."

The young vampire nodded, still not very okay with attacking people. Arthur went on to casually follow a group of workers from afar as he kept Peter by his side.

"I don't want to attack one of them," Peter whispered softly.

Arthur pulled his gaze from the group and allowed it to rest on his son. "It's necessary for our survival."

"I know," Peter raised his voice and looked up to Arthur, "I know… I don't want to attack one of _them_. You said that they're all poor, right? And—And they need their jobs…" Peter pulled his father to a stop. "What… What if we attack one of them and then they can't make it to work on time and they get fired? What happens then?"

Arthur opened his mouth and looked between Peter and the group in the distance. He squatted down again and met Peter's height. "If we attack one of them, then, yes, they may suffer, but besides the rich, they're the only humans around."

At that, Peter's eyes slightly widened in realization. "What about the rich?" He whispered. "If—If they're rich like we're rich, then even if we attack them they'll be okay— Because they're rich."

The elder vampire kept his gaze locked with his son's. Attack the rich? In the city? What a foolish thought! Though… Peter had good intentions and his reasoning was true… Attacking the aristocracy would draw unwanted attention to them, but Arthur was confident that he could drive any and all threats away. After all, the world's best hunter, Arthur Kirkland, used to be a magnificent hunter. Now he was even better.

Arthur looked up at the clouded skies and at the buildings. He could guess where the rich lived. Slowly, he stood and took Peter's hand again. This next task would require breaking and entering. It would be quite the challenge, but something about it excited him. "Let's go find the rich then." He spoke just loud enough for him and Peter to hear.

After taking his time searching the streets for the nobles, the elder vampire pinpointed a home. He remained a good distance from it and in the shadows. At this point in time, he looked down to his son. "When I open the window, we'll sneak in. It's important that we stay absolutely quiet in our hunt." Of course he knew his son could figure out that much. He was a smart lad. "No matter what happens…stay silent. Be fast. Move in the shadows. Try your very hardest to remove yourself from existence."

Peter gulped and then nodded. He could do that. He could pretend that he didn't exist.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked, running his thumb over Peter's own.

Again, Peter nodded and he whispered, "Yes— I'm ready."

The elder vampire's lips pulled into an inconspicuous smile and he walked down the street with his son by his side.

Peter glanced around partially from worry and partially from amazement. His father's footsteps made no noise and the wind that swept up around them did nothing to deter Arthur's fluid and relaxed movement. Peter tried his hardest to remain silent, too, and though he was—indeed—making a bit of noise as he walked, he was still abnormally silent by a human's standards.

Once they reached their destination, Arthur released Peter's hand and ever so lightly gripped his son's shoulder. He gazed down at Peter with a confident smile. It was imperative to keep Peter from worrying. Worrying caused nervousness. Nervousness caused mistakes. Mistakes would get them killed.

Arthur released his hold on Peter's shoulder and it seemed some outside force lifted his chin to allow him view of the second floor window. Everything about how the vampire seemed to slide _up_ the brick wall and balanced himself on the window sill was inhuman. The creature slipped a nail between the window's cracks and lifted the metal latch. The wind took part in helping Arthur ease the window open and the dark curtains parted to welcome vampire into their home. He took one step down from the window sill and then another.

At this moment, Peter realized he was to follow. He climbed up to and through the window with ease—though he was not nearly as graceful as his father was. He cautiously placed his foot against the wood flooring and then the other. The curtains seemed less enthused to greet the vampire's son. Peter snuck around the thick fabrics that hung from the window and opted to squat down in the darkest corner of the room.

Neither vampires spoke to each other.

Arthur seemed to float to the bedside and he loomed over the sleeping individual. Ah, it was a boy. He looked to be about half of Arthur's age and just entering his defining years. He would have a long life. …Or at least it wouldn't end tonight. The vampire dragged his gaze to view the dark corner his son hid in. He tipped his head and allowed himself to eye the soon-to-be victim again.

Peter assumed that his father wanted him to come over. As quietly as possible, Peter stood and stepped over to the two—all the while keeping an eye on the boy. Once the boy was settled by his father, Arthur rested a hand on Peter's back and gave it a small push. It wasn't enough to force Peter anywhere, but it was enough to tell him to drink.

"Be silent," The vampire's voice hardly came to a whisper.

Peter's movements hesitated before he continued on. He stepped in front of his father and he paled in realization. He would have to climb onto the bed in order to reach the victim's neck. The little vampire looked up to his father and stood on his toes in an attempt to show that he needed an extra boost.

The elder vampire smiled at that and held his son's waist. He easily lifted the boy up and held him over the victim. He kept his grip steady and he was ready to pull his son back whenever necessary.

Peter adjusted to the new position and he looked down at the rich kid. The human boy breathed in and out in slow, shallow breaths and his eyes flickered back and forth behind his smooth eyelids. After seeing nothing but his father for some time, Peter took notice of how the human under him looked. While his father had perfect symmetry in his expression, this human was so…off. One eyebrow was lifted and the other was strained. The mouth was agape and his teeth were slightly crooked. Freckles dusted his cheeks and his dark hair spread every which way. Even Arthur's messy hair was so artfully askew—nothing like this human's locks.

He paused.

Now that he realized it… Even though the human was so flawed, he seemed…right. His features were so uneven and careless, but the way his breaths flowed in and out of his lungs, the way his nose scrunched up when it itched, and the way he kicked his sheets down, allowing his overheated body to welcome the cool air that flowed through the open window were all so delightfully imperfect. It reminded Peter of the ladybird beetle he had talked about earlier that night.

"Peter," Arthur breathed.

His name broke his observations and forced Peter to focus on the task at hand. The neck was exposed and Peter could see the blue vein pumping liquid life beneath the skin. Peter leaned down to the best of his ability and opened his mouth, brushing his newly developed fangs against the neck.

The human slept.

Peter's eyes slipped closed and he gently sunk his fangs into the skin. Droplets of blood bubbled forth and slipped down the human's neck before the young vampire could catch them. However, he did manage to latch his mouth onto the new wound to drink in the blood.

After half a minute or so of drinking, Arthur began to pull Peter back. Reluctantly, Peter released his hold on the human's neck and looked to his father once he was set down.

The elder vampire's eyes widened at the sight of the victim before viewing his son. After a brief pause, Arthur brushed his thumb over Peter's cheeks and chin. "Goodness," He mouthed, "You've got blood all over your face…"

Arthur's gentle scolding reminded Peter of when he would play outside and get his clothes covered with dirt.

He looked over to the victim and peered at what he'd done. There was blood all down the boy's neck and it soaked parts of the human's pillow and clothes. Peter had come out of the situation significantly cleaner than he was after his first feed.

_His first feed_.

Peter's eyes widened and he leaned on the bed in a panic. The human groaned lightly at the movement and he still breathed. Peter let out a sigh of relief. He was okay. The rich kid was okay. Before Peter could view anymore, Arthur pulled him from the bedside. "I'll take care of this." His words were soft and Peter mostly just read his lips. Arthur guided Peter to the window just as he heard shifting behind him.

And then a scream.

The vampire looked back to see the human boy sitting up in bed, clutching his neck and shrieking. Immediately, Arthur gave Peter a shove out the window. He watched as Peter caught a hold of the window sill and carefully but quickly climbed down to the ground below. By the time he himself managed to stand in the window sill, the boy's bedroom door opened. He didn't give the adults a chance to see his face, but he was sure the human boy knew what he looked like.

A surge of wind enveloped Arthur as he leaped down from the window. In a few fluid movements, he scooped his son up into his arms and darted off into the night. Flickers of light from the gas street lights caught the tails of his coat. He didn't stop his fast pace for miles. Eventually, he slowed to a stop and looked back in the direction he ran from. He could guess that the family made a fuss over their child. He would have.

"Dad—" Peter—who had clung to his father's vest throughout the duration of the sprint—finally relaxed just enough to look up to Arthur. "Are—Are we okay? Are they coming after us? I'm— I'm sorry, Dad… I didn't mean to— I'm—" The boy started gasping in short breaths. The poor dear.

Arthur shook his head and cradled Peter to his chest as he began walking towards their mansion. "No, Peter, it's all okay. They can't follow us." He used his very gentle tone—a tone reserved only for Peter and his late mother. "We are just fine." The elder vampire hummed a lullaby in an attempt to calm his precious son.

They arrived at the mansion very late. They only had about two hours of night left. Arthur spent them washing the blood from Peter's face and reading him a story before allowing his son to sleep in his coffin.

Over the course of the next few days, Arthur had continued to teach Peter how to hunt, though it was more dangerous now. There was a foreboding feeling that hung in the air whenever they left the house and Arthur couldn't figure out for the life of him just _why_ he hadn't seen anyone do anything about the two vampires' hunting. He almost _wished_ that the amateurs of that rich child's family would try to come kill him so the threat would be over with.

It took little time, but to Arthur it felt like ages.

It was in the early hours of the morning when it happened. Arthur woke to the sound of a small crashing in his home. Luckily, the sound didn't wake Peter—or at least not fully. The elder vampire silently opened his coffin and stepped out of it before settling Peter down in it.

Peter's eyes peered open and he rubbed them as he spoke, "Dad? What's wrong—?"

Arthur knelt down by the coffin and shook his head lightly with a warm smile. "Nothing's wrong, love. Go back to sleep. I'll go take care of it." He placed a kiss against his son's forehead and he waited until Peter lay back down before he gently closed the coffin.

Once the coffin was closed, the elder vampire stood and walked out of the room with a brisk pace. The bedroom door clicked closed and Arthur watched the dark as he strolled to the top of the stairs. There was probably an animal in the house. The vampire looked to the front door and his gaze narrowed. It had been pried open.

For God's sake, he thought. The intruder could have at least closed the damn door.

From this point on, he kept up his guard and stepped down the stairs. Upon reaching the first floor, he heard the attempt to stay quiet come from one—wait, not one—_two_ individuals. Young adults, Arthur concluded. He briefly wondered if they were the wealthy child's older brothers.

Arthur would have gone through the house to search for them, but he considered it vital to keep the staircase in sight. Neither of the two would live to reach the second floor. There was shuffling. Surely, they knew that Arthur had gotten out of his coffin.

They knew.

Instantly, Arthur heard a sudden stepping and small grunt of effort before he felt water rush against him. Then he felt a burning sensation. He cursed. It was holy water. He was soaked to the bone in _holy water_. The vampire's senses were dulled and his movements were sluggish. Arthur gasped upon seeing a stake flying towards his chest. He had barely enough time to duck out of the way and kick the man behind the stake into a wall.

The second man charged towards him with a stake of his own and though Arthur was surprised by the man's aesthetic similarity to the one he had just kicked aside, he was able to side step and engage in combat before sending the second man toppling onto the first one.

They were hunters. Twin hunters.

"How rude," Arthur stated before unbuttoning his vest and tossing it to the side. Hopefully he'd dry faster this way. "In my day, hunters greeted the creature they planned on laying waste to. …Or they at least waited until _day_." What fools they were. Arthur's time had only been under a year ago. How much about hunting could have changed in such a short time? "Fools." He scoffed and stepped closer to them. "I almost feel bad killing you."

"Don't underestimate us!" One shouted. His accent indicated that he was from across the pond or at least that's where his accent was from.

"Please," Arthur tilted his head to the side, wondering just how he'd kill two birds with one stone, "you're children."

"All the more reason to not kill us." The other spoke up as he stood and helped his twin up shortly after.

They stood tall—taller than Arthur, but that didn't intimidate the elder vampire in the slightest. They were cocky. They carried themselves with an air of brute force. One more so than the other. Arthur kept an eye on the one that seemed to move with more care. He always watched the ones with more care. They were the real threats.

Arthur watched them and they began circling. "…Are you close to that rich child? The one I drank from a few nights back?"

"Nah," The one with shorter hair shook his head lightly, but he kept his eyes peeled and watching Arthur, "we're just people that don't like monsters. We protect the innocent."

Innocent. Arthur would've rolled his eyes. "You protect humans, not the innocent." When had he started talking this way? Was it back when he was changed?

The quieter one straightened his back as he stood before Arthur. "Really?" He asked, "Are you serious? You're trying to _defend_ yourself after you attacked and killed so many people?" He was obviously appalled by the vampire's mindset. How could the vampire defend his actions?

Arthur remained firm in his position. His eyes held no surprise and no remorse. "If we're going to get technical about this, I can spend nights explaining away my actions and why they were justified, but I'd rather lay you to waste as soon as possible." The vampire stepped towards the careful one, but before he could do any damage, the other threw another round of holy water.

The vampire ducked to the side as did the careful hunter and the water spread out across the floor. The careful hunter looked to his partner with an exasperated expression. _"Al!" _He huffed and hoisted himself up from his space on the floor.

"What?" The louder one—Al—shrugged and shifted to prepare his next throw.

Arthur sent a chilling glare at the two, though it was more one of inconvenience than anything. "You're using holy water again? _Right_, because it worked _so_ well last time."

"Not quite." Al stated while looking oddly serious. He smirked and then tilted his head. "What's the matter? Is the big, bad vampire so _afraid_ of a little water?" He mocked.

Arthur's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The hunter was mocking him? As if he wasn't enough of a fool already. "I'm not afraid of holy water. It's just highly annoying."

The childish hunter kept on mocking, "Aw, are you scared of getting a little sunburn from the Sun, too? Poor, lil kid."

"I am not a child!" The vampire hissed, clearly growing frustrated with the juvenile behavior presented to him. As he stormed over to Al, he felt his body get soaked _once again_. He let out a frustrated growl and waited for the burn.

He waited.

And waited.

But there was none. There were no burns. It wasn't holy water…

Arthur sniffed his clothes. He recognized this scent. It was so evident in his mind. He remembered it from back when he was human, but what was it? He looked to Al, confused and when he saw the man pull a match from his coat, the substance's identity dawned on him.

It was alcohol.

The elder vampire had all of a second to see two matches—alight with flame—fall against his soaked frame and the next thing he knew, he was at the center of a roaring fire. He let out a blood curdling scream as he stumbled backwards, sending the flames from his feet to the alcohol covered floor.

As flames leapt at the ceiling, the two hunters escaped out the door.

Arthur felt for the stairs and tried to climb them. The only thoughts on his mind were about his son's safety. He struggled past the flames, but the pain wracking his body forbade him to do much more than whine in agony. His muscles refused to move on and he felt the heat tearing through his skin. The bright fire in his peripheral vision went on ahead to greet Peter.

Arthur Kirkland had been a hunter in his first life.

And in his second, he was a monster.

His vision left him.

Perhaps he could finally be at peace in the afterlife.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.**

**This final chapter of Plaster Saint was much shorter than I thought it would be. Apologies for that, but it's finally complete! **

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><p>Plaster Saint<p>

Chapter 3

The two hunters backed away from the mansion as flames licked up its interior. It was actually rather pretty…in a very horrifying way. Regardless, Matthew and Alfred were very successful in their most recent adventure! The two grinned at each other. No more would this area have to fear the evil vampire that stalked among them.

Alfred clapped his hand on his older brother's back. "Nice work on that last throw, Mattie!" He praised and looked back to the flaming house.

Matthew—or Mattie, as Alfred sometimes called him—let out a relieved sigh. "Yeah, no problem." He paused before giving his brother a cross expression. "Are we going to talk about how you almost threw some of that alcohol on _me?"_

"Nope!" The other laughed albeit nervously, "The vampire's dead, and that's all that matters."

They watched the fire for a minute or so before Matthew looked around with a confused expression. "Hey, Al, do you hear that?" He asked.

"Hear what, Matt?" Alfred let his hand drop from his brother's back, and he pushed his sleeves down. Despite the burning pyre in front of them, it was getting cold.

Matthew took a step closer to the house. "It's… It's like… Someone's screaming." His eyes widened, and he looked to Alfred. "What if there was a human in there?"

As if on cue, a child ran around the house to the front and screamed at the fire, "DAD! _DAD!" _He continued yelling for his father. His clothes were singed, and big, red tears dripped down his cheeks. When he went to run inside, Alfred rushed to wrap an arm around him and keep him from moving.

The child struggled against the hunter's hold, and to the hunter's surprise, the child was winning.

"Matt!" Alfred shouted, "Help me! I can't hold him!"

Matthew ran over and slid down to the ground before wrapping his arms around the child. Damn it, he was strong! "You can't go in there!" Matthew attempted to talk some sense into the child. It was then that Matthew saw the red tears that slipped down the boy's cheeks and his tiny fangs. "Alfred."

Alfred sent a frustrated look at his brother before noticing what Matthew was concerned about.

It was a vampire child, and they had just killed his father.

"Hey, Kid," Alfred grunted and tried tightening his hold, "your dad's not in there! He ran off! He's gone!" He felt the child's struggling weaken.

"But…" The vampire watched the fire devour his home, "But he— Then he's okay?" He watched Alfred with eyes red from crying.

Alfred nodded, and Matthew loosened his grip on the boy. "Yeah, we saw him run out just after the fire started. He's probably long gone by now." Matthew stood and held a hand out to the child. "Come with us. You can't stay here."

Alfred stood as well and watched Matthew, wordlessly questioning his actions. They were going to care for a vampire child?

The child shook his head and kept his eyes on the fire. "I'm— I'm going wait here… My dad— He's going to come back, and I want to wait for him…"

Alfred and Matthew locked their gazes, and the two argued in expressions. The child remained silent. After a minute or so, Alfred was defeated. They were going to take care of the vampire child. "Alright, Kid. The villagers will probably be here soon, and the sun's gonna be up, so we need to get you some place safe. There's no hiding spots around here."

"My dad will find one." The vampire looked to Alfred and spoke with utmost seriousness. "He'll find one, and then he'll wait for night, and then he'll come get me." The firm trust in his father made the child seem untouchable.

After a pause, Alfred spoke, "What's your name, Kid?"

The vampire's gaze drifted down, and he whispered, "You're a stranger."

Alfred gave a shrug and held his hand out to the vampire kid. "Name's Alfred Jones, Kid. That's Matthew. He's my brother. What's your name?"

Well… He wasn't quite a stranger now, was he? The vampire child met the man's—Alfred's—gaze and he shook his hand. "My name's Peter…Kirkland. My dad's name is Arthur." Well, they were introducing family members, so he thought it was important that Alfred and Matthew knew his dad's name to avoid any awkward meeting in the future. He took Alfred's hand and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Peter Kirkland." Alfred retracted his hand and gave the boy's back a pat. "You're going to be spending some time with us until your dad comes for you, okay? We'll leave him a note, so he knows where you are. Sound good?"

Peter watched the younger hunter. Would this be like that time his dad left him all alone, and that family from the village took care of him? Except… Except these two would take care of him instead? He _did_ enjoy his time with the family, and he really could not stay outside during the day. Besides, his father would just come for him at nightfall, and then they would be together again. After thinking through it, Peter nodded softly.

"Great!" Alfred rested his hand on Peter's back to guide him away from the house and onwards to the hunters' horses.

Matthew followed closely after, resting a hand on his younger twin's shoulder. Alfred paused, and Peter stopped. The child looked up at the two with eyes filled with expectance rather than a juvenile wonder. The hunters shared a moment of temporary thoughtfulness before Matthew moved on ahead to the horses and wagon.

Alfred fell from his thoughts when Peter lightly pulled his arm and spoke, "He won't need a note to find me. I don't think you have paper anyway."

Well, he was not wrong. Alfred had no intention of leaving a paper trail. It would not be good for publicity to say that they slay monsters, but they definitely guide the monster children back to their monster parents when they get lost or abandoned.

Sure, abandoned.

At the very least, Matthew had no intention letting the villagers use their fear and paranoia against the child vampire. The best thing to come from that would be more fear and violence. Someone had to be the coherent moderator.

"Mattie," Alfred called—not too loud, though, only loud enough to snatch his brother's attention from thought. Once he had his twin's gaze, Alfred continued, "The Sun'll be up in an hour or so. Who do we know that's close?"

As he placed the items he carried in the wagon, Matthew thought through the people that were close by. "Peter, you can ride in the wagon, okay? Don't touch anything." It would be a small trouble to lose the holy water, but he wanted Peter as unscathed as possible. Quickly, he pulled a blanket over the hunters' tools to keep Peter ignorant of their true occupation.

Peter nodded and looked to the dark, wooden wagon, sizing it up. With Alfred's help, Peter managed to get in it. He took notice of the blanket as the adults talked. It was not that he was not interested in the conversation or that he could not understand. He merely felt as if he could grasp the general idea without concentrating. Having a steady maturity growth was another useful vampiric tool.

"Oh, hey." Alfred sent Matthew a look of realization as he spoke, "What about Rhys? He owes us for that…errand we took care of for him last year, remember? There's no way he can turn us down."

Matthew met his twin with a frown and a whisper, "His house went up in flames, _remember_?" His tone was slightly mocking—only because he was tired. He meant no ill will towards Alfred. "I don't think he's too keen on seeing us right now." He hoisted himself onto his horse. "There's also that time we set his barn on fire—"

"Hey, no one was hurt, and it wasn't as bad as the Big One."

"Why do we keep setting fire to things, anyway?" Matthew asked, his expression verging on confusion.

Alfred pulled himself onto his horse and secured himself. He gave a shrug. "Guess fire just really likes us." He paused before raising his voice just a bit, "Guess…that's just what happened. Here. Since… The fire drew us here and all." His sentence was choppy with unsurety.

Peter lifted his head, choosing to listen in on the conversation. Were Matthew and Alfred wanderers? Maybe their belongings were under the blanket. The two sounded like they were from somewhere far away. It could not have been too far, though, since they spoke English. Inertia tugged Peter's body lightly once the wagon started to move with the help of Matthew's horse. The adults continued to talk. The vampire child gazed up at the night sky and at the starts that were billions of miles away, twinkling in space's black abyss. It was so big… …Would he ever grow big? Grow old…?

Nah, he need not.

Peter's father would always be with him. Maybe not right now, but his father always looked after him. Except for right now. Just for now he was with these wanderers. Just now. Tomorrow night Arthur would show up at whatever door Matthew and Alfred found, and Peter's father would come and take him to a new home—one not made of char. Maybe they would find a modern home. Maybe they would venture across the world! The old house in ashes did not mean the end—it meant a whole new beginning! A beginning that Peter would be so happy to share with his father.

The vampire child fell asleep, dreaming of his new home.

Upon waking at nine the next night, Peter sat up and felt the warm comforter in his hands. He glanced around the dark room—dark for humans, he supposed. Peter noted the bed, the desk, a few books, and a staircase to a door. Staircase. One door. Basement. He was in a basement. Apparently Matthew and Alfred were not terrible at finding a vampire-safe place. He wondered briefly if such a place would meet his father's standards. A wave of warmth and realization flooded over him.

Tonight was the night his father would come for him!

Peter leaped out of bed and rushed up the stairs with a vampire's acquired grace and a humanesque sense of excitement. The door opened with a bang, and he stood in the doorway with a bright smile. He saw a wooden table with two wooden chairs staggered around it. By one not-very-battered door, there was a sort-of sink and a sort-of cabinet. Peter noticed a sort-of floor along with covered windows and a splintery door. It was a small space, and it was void of life—well, void of human and vampire life; the mice had a nice nest in the corner.

He gradually lost his smile. "Hello?" Peter called softly. When no one answered, the vampire child stepped around the room and then climbed onto a chair.

It was at that moment that the door opened. Peter looked to it in hopes that he would see his father standing there. To his dismay, it was only Alfred and Matthew. His frown deepened.

"Hey, look who's awake," Alfred gave Peter a bright smile, "Hey, Kid. How was your sleep?" He stepped in, placing his basket on the table.

Matthew placed a different basket on the sort-of table—the tiny one against the wall. "We've got dinner for you, Peter."

The young vampire tilted his head to the side and opted not to answer. Instead, he breached another conversation topic, "Did my dad come by yet? Did he ask for me?"

"Uh…," Alfred quickly opened his basket and pulled a fluffy, white rabbit out of it. "Here you go. This is good for dinner, right? If that doesn't work, we've got some mice and a cat."

Peter gasped upon seeing the precious bunny. Alfred wanted him to drink from it? Outrageous! He gently cradled the rabbit in his arms and pet him. "I don't want to hurt the bunny. Or the kitty. Or…" Peter sent Alfred a confused look. "I don't— I don't want to hurt the mice either, and they're not even filling…"

Alfred's tone dropped ever so slightly, "You were fine with hurting people before. Why not the animals?"

"But," Peter argued, "but they could afford it. They…were rich. And—! And we only drank enough to get by! We didn't kill anyone… I didn't let Dad kill anyone. I made him promise not to kill anyone."

Matthew's tone, on the other hand, was softer and had more control than Alfred's did. "Peter, you can do the same with the animals. You can drink just enough from a few, and then we can set them free. They can live just fine."

At that, Peter paused and looked down at the rabbit he held in his arms. He could do that. The animals could not really scream or fight back as well as humans…except the cat, probably. He would not drink from cats, then. After taking a breath, Peter proceeded to carefully drink from the rabbit he held. From Alfred's point of view, it just looked like a child cradling his pet bunny in his arms. It was perfectly innocent.

It _seemed_ perfectly innocent.

A week had passed, and in it, Alfred and Matthew fed Peter various animals that they had found. After Peter was finished, they had set the animals free, but there was something amiss. It did not take an expert to see that a life on mere animal blood could sustain a vampire child.

On the seventh night, Peter rested his head on the table with his arms clutched around his torso. He was freezing to the touch, and he whined softly. The pounding of human pulses were loud in his ears, and he was unsure if he could stick to his strict animal-only diet.

Matthew, on the other hand, prepared a meal for himself and Alfred. They were extremely fortunate that the abandoned house had a place for a cooking fire. Tonight's special was a sort of stew, and Matthew cut the different vegetables while Alfred was out gathering the components of Peter's dinner.

In an attempt to distract himself from the hunger pains, Peter spoke out, "Mattie, why— why isn't Dad here, yet? Why isn't he here? He knows I'm gone. He— He must've seen us." He felt crimson tears bubble forth in his eyes.

"Maybe he's looking for a new house before he comes for you, Peter," Matthew answered, determined to keep Peter's spirits high…but not unrealistically high. "Your dad wants to have a safe place ready for you when he comes to pick you up. Right now he knows that you're being taken care of so that gives him all his time to find the perfect house for you both to live—" A sharp pain shrieked to life in Matthew's left thumb. Instantly, he dropped the knife and urged himself not to curse.

Instantly, Peter sat up and stared at Matthew with wide eyes and a firm set mouth.

All the happy thoughts flew from Peter's head, and they were replaced with the loud thumping. The double thump. The human heart thump. The sound drowned out any of Matthew's attempts to talk Peter down. Peter did not even realize his body slowly moved from the chair and stood by it, facing Matthew. Every movement did absolutely nothing to distract the child from his prey—from Matthew. Just when he was ready to pounce on one of his current caretakers, he felt a wet, stinging trail of water slap against his back. Seconds later, he was wrapped in a thick blanket and then lifted. As he was moved, he felt the stairs' hard, fast smacks before he landed on the basement floor. Peter lifted the blanket from his face just in time to see Alfred's basket collide with his chest.

Peter opened the basket immediately to see a few bunnies disoriented. Within a minute or so, he had drained at least one and worked on another. It was a messy meal. A desperate meal. A snack, really. He stopped after his second. Drinking animal blood as a vampire seemed to be the same thing as drinking salt water as a human. The boy needed _human_ blood. He moved the basket from his lap and stood. At the very least, Peter had his control again. He flew up the steps and paused at the cracked door. Placing his hand on the door, he intended to push, but Alfred's words stopped him.

"I can't believe it when you said we'd take care of him," He said. "We don't do this kind of shit." The younger twin's tone was sharper than Peter had ever heard it. "It's hard enough to take care of a kid, but a _vampire kid? _Did you have a few swigs of that alcohol before we went in there?"

Peter's eyes flickered back and forth, merely viewing where the candlelight touched the walls.

They went in. In where? In. In…

Peter lifted his chin slightly in realization, and his eyes widened.

_In the mansion_.

The door slowly creaked open. Peter stood there with his wide eyes trapping Alfred's and Matthew's gazes. He stood there, bruised, disheveled, malnourished, and lied to. His lips and chin were stained with the rabbits' blood.

"The fires were your faults." He stated, no question in his tone. "You knew my dad and I lived there. You… You're the ones he was talking about. The plans working against us."

Then there was a pause. The only movements were the candle's fire and the cooking fire. Shadows stretched up the walls, and the basement's darkness made Peter seem bigger than ever before. When Alfred and Matthew did not answer, Peter began to walk to the door.

"Peter, wait— Where are you going?" Matthew stood, clenching his newly wrapped hand. "You can't go out there." He gulped lightly. "Y— Your father, he's— You can't go. He isn't… He…was closer to the start of the fire than you were."

The vampire child watched the hunter with a gaze filled to the brim with unquestionable faith and of pure determination. "My dad is out there, and I'm going to find him. You can't hide me anymore." With that, Peter dashed out of the house. Alfred and Matthew registered the open door and the sudden absence of Peter's body. The two spent the better of the night searching for the vampire child, though their endeavor was fruitless.

These days, the people of England watch the world as new inventions take root: the zeppelin, the first radio receiver, the tractor. They look forward to new technology, not knowing that in a few short years, a single shot would yank the world into history-defining combat.

Unlike the people of the world, Peter Kirkland spends his nights in the dark and his days in darker places. Always remaining in London, always remaining in his mother country. The Legend of the Immortal Child remains as utterances on the wind's back and in the mouths of supernatural hunters. Beware the bloodied, vampire child, they all say. Beware the dark. Beware the danger that walks the cobblestone streets, searching, always searching, for his Immortal Father: the Plaster Saint.

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><p><strong>I hope that the ending was able to add a little bit more information to this fic even though it seems a bit open ended. And tragic. I've put a very tiny playlist up on my tumblr for this fic (very sadly, I don't have any music account so it is youtube links..). All you have to do is go to my profile page to see what my tumblr is and enter "tagged/plaster saint playlist" after the ".com". There's a very simple drawing for the cover art as well. Thank you very much for reading Plaster Saint! I hope you enjoyed it. **


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